


A Man In The Dark

by itsmadeofgold



Series: Gogo!AU [6]
Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Kradam, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-24
Updated: 2011-01-24
Packaged: 2017-10-15 22:59:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/165728
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsmadeofgold/pseuds/itsmadeofgold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is one year after Kradam's first night together in Adam's dressing room, but it isn't their anniversary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Man In The Dark

If anybody had asked Adam what he was doing, he would’ve said he was checking to make sure everything was perfect; giving the bar a final inspection. The truth was that he was pacing, back and forth across the empty dance floor, from the bar to the DJ booth and back again and again. He wasn’t even aware he was doing it, really; his mind was moving a thousand miles a minute, and only the tiniest part of it was paying any attention to the nervous movement of his feet.

Any moment, Kris would arrive.

At least, Adam hoped he would.

  
**~*~**   


Kris wasn’t sure why he was bothering to make the drive downtown, second-guessing and fighting himself from the minute he left Em’s driveway to when he pulled into The Park’s small parking lot.

It wouldn’t do any good. It would only make things worse.

He doubted Adam even realized the significance of the day, but for Kris the unfortunate timing only made the whole thing more tragic.

He would’ve been unwilling to admit that any part of himself still clung to the possibility that good could come of it, but that part was there nonetheless; it was this part that had made him agree to come despite the fact that his conscious mind believed there was nothing left to save. He told himself he was just curious what Adam wanted, just showing him a little respect in the end, but it wasn’t curiosity that made him open the door and get out of the car, moving one foot at a time toward the entrance of the bar that was now painful in its familiarity.

Arriving at the door Kris noticed that something wasn’t right; the shades were drawn and the neon sign over his head turned off. It looked _closed._ He pulled out his phone and glanced at the time - after 8:00 on a Friday, and the bar was dark and silent? Confused, he reached out to try the door, surprised when it swung open easily.

He stepped in to find that it wasn’t entirely dark - the colored lights which usually spun and whirled over the dancers’ heads were still now but glowing dimly in various colors, creating a soft haze of light.

Adam stood in the center of the empty dance floor, facing Kris with his arms hanging at his sides, palms out. He wasn’t dressed for a night at the clubs or on his platform, wearing just a tight black t-shirt and grey jeans, no makeup but smudged black eyeliner. He looked strangely small standing there, so vulnerable and alone in a space he usually ruled.

“What’s going on?” Kris said.

“I considered candles,” Adam said, stepping forward. “But didn’t want it to be too cheesy. I... well. Happy anniversary.” He shrugged one shoulder, looking down, like he was embarrassed to have remembered.

Kris exhaled. “Couples have anniversaries,” he said.

Adam looked up again, his face straddling the line between fear and determination. “You can’t be serious.”

Kris shook his head. “Adam--”

Adam held up one hand and took a few steps toward Kris. “Hear me out,” he said. “OK? Please?”

The buried hopeful part of Kris started vibrating in his chest. He didn’t acknowledge it, too focused on his dread of another goodbye, having to go through the whole ugly business all over again.

“OK,” Kris said. “I guess.”

“Sit.”

Kris took a seat at a nearby table. Adam sat across from him, leaning forward, his face tense and earnest as he began to speak.

“OK,” he said. “Here’s the deal. I want. I need you to come home. There, that’s the most important thing.”

“Home?”

“Yes, _home._ The place where you live. With me. Remember it?”

“Yes, I remember it,” Kris said, looking down. “Unless you’re suggesting some big changes, you know I can’t.”

Adam sighed. “I am suggesting some big changes,” he said.

“Oh?”

Kris flashed back to the last conversation - fight, really - that they’d had before he’d walked out. They’d both lost their tempers, both said things that were unproductive and occasionally cruel. Kris had been so sad, so disappointed in them both. But that didn’t mean their problems weren’t real. Kris had said some things that he wished he could take back, but most of it had been nothing but the painful truth. If Adam recoiled from it he had nobody to blame but himself.

It just seemed so simple to Kris; he knew the kind of relationship he wanted, and it did not include walking into a club – again and again – to find his partner wrapped around some half-naked stranger. They’d talked about it a million times, Adam always apologetic without ever really admitting guilt. The dance floor was a separate realm; something Kris didn’t need to worry about, Adam would say. Because at the end of the night, Adam always came home to him.

And Kris had tried to accept it. Tried to be OK with it or at least not think about it, but then it would happen again – he’d have to _see_ , and it made him want to scream, his hands curling into fists.

This last time - when he’d gone looking for Adam at The Rec and found him with some 20 year-old’s hand on his crotch, squeezing - had pushed Kris past his limit. Far from objecting, Adam had been grinding against him, eyes closed, head thrown back. Kris had felt nauseous; he turned and walked out, waiting battle-ready at the dining room table when Adam came home several hours later.

Kris had told him that night that it was over, and he didn’t see a way back from that. But he was here now, so he might as well listen.

“Tell me what you have in mind,” he said, keeping his eyes on the table.

“Understand me,” Adam said, reaching his hand across the table. Kris didn’t return the gesture, didn’t look up. “I love you. There are only a couple of things that I really know for sure, and that’s one of them. I love you, and I need you to come back. I just… need you to.” He took a deep breath. “But I need you to love me, too. For who I am, you know? And who I am is somebody who needs a certain amount of freedom - that’s something else I know for sure. I _live_ in clubs. You’ve always known that. And dancing is all I’ve ever done, and I just… need it. I have to do it the way I do it. I just have to have that in my life, but I have to have you too, I can’t… I go crazy when I think about giving either one up. I can’t. Kris, I need you to come home. But, just…”

He trailed off and Kris shook his head. He remembered all the long talks he’d had with Em in the week and a half that he’d been crashing with her, how they’d come to the conclusion time and again that Adam was wrong for him, that things were turning toxic, that it just wasn’t a healthy situation.

Again and again, they agreed that it would be better for Kris to move on, before things got any _more_ complicated. Before he got hurt any worse.

And yet, he’d come here when Adam asked, hadn’t he?

He looked up. “I don’t think I can do it,” he said, shrugging. Like it wasn’t something he could control. That made it easier - to look at it like something that was just done, something he couldn’t undo. It didn’t feel like a lie, either, with the way the image of Adam’s face, Adam rapturous with a stranger, haunted him every day. It _felt_ like it was out of his hands now, like there was nothing to do but run from it or go crazy.

“You just have to,” Adam said. “Do you really want us to be broken up? To really move out? Over _this?_ ”

“Yes. I have to. I can’t even… I can’t even look at you. I just see you with this parade of other guys, I don’t… I don’t even know _what_ you’ve done, or with who. “

“No,” Adam said, putting a hand up to interject. “I have told you a million times. I haven’t done anything serious. You know that.”

Kris cocked an eyebrow. “I’ve seen you.”

“I know, OK. I know you saw something that upset you and I’m sorry, but I wish you’d believe me when I tell you it was not as serious as you thought. And if… OK, it may seem like I let things go too far sometimes, but it doesn’t _mean_ anything. And I never hook up with those guys or even leave the floor with them, they’re just… part of the scene. “

“They’re people. That you’re getting off with in public.”

Adam exhaled, his shoulders sagging. “You know, it could be you. You could just come with me when I go out like you used to. You could even just cut in if you see something you don’t like. It’s nothing about them, they’re just there, you know? If you were there--”

“I can’t believe that you won’t even offer to stop. That’s one possible solution. How is it that it never even occurred to you? That maybe instead of letting me leave you could stop getting handjobs from strangers in bars?”

Adam’s mouth thinned and he took two breaths before he spoke. “I’m not getting handjobs from anyone,” he finally said. His voice got louder as he spoke, but he kept it below a shout, obviously fighting to maintain control. “I don’t want to beg you. I’m trying to reason with you. I _know_ you don’t really want this. I come home to you every single night, and I… I spent Christmas with your family. You took care of me when I had the flu. My mom has you on speed dial. Family stuff, right? Love? Something more meaningful than sweating on somebody for half a song?” He paused, like he wasn’t going to continue without being sure Kris was clear on this point.

Kris nodded, keeping his eyes on Adam and trying to keep his face neutral. He felt like he was suffocating.

“I can’t stay with you just to be with you,” Kris said. Adam’s eyes went wide.

“What the fuck?” he said. “That’s the _only_ reason to stay with me. Because you want to be with me. Right?”

“No, I mean. Just because I’ve been with you, and we have history… doesn’t mean I should always stay with you. I can’t stay just because I always have. Because it’s easy.“

“I stayed with you because it was hard,” Adam said. “And everything you just said is bullshit. Leaving is the easy thing for you to do right now. You’re running away because you’re a _coward._ We’ve spent all this time waiting for me to do it, and here you come out of nowhere. It would be harder for you to really consider the fact that you’re wrong, to try to see it my way.”

“How’s that?”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I’ve changed my entire life for you. When I met you here a year ago, I was a completely different guy. Just a predator, in a lot of ways, though I thought it was mostly harmless. “

Kris snorted.

“Really,” Adam said. “But that’s not me anymore. I like dancing up there, but I don’t look at the crowd like I used to, like a challenge or something. It’s not that I’m always thinking about you, either, it’s just… I don’t have to anymore, I guess.“

“But you still have to make out with strangers afterward?”

“Sort of,” Adam said, shrugging. “I have to dance, and the strangers are there, and they end up getting the benefit. That’s the part you’re not understanding. I have changed so much for you... I don’t cheat on you, I don’t want to leave you. I hang out with your friends--I like them, honestly. And your parents. I’m doing this whole commitment thing I never even imagined for myself, and I’m doing it because I want to be with you. I don’t ever want to _not_ be with you.” He sighed. “So if you were on the dance floor with me, it would be like nobody else was there. Even if you wander in and see something you don’t want to see, you could just come and take me back. I’m _yours._ If you’d trust that for even a second, this wouldn’t even be a problem. You wouldn’t even care who I made out with.”

Kris’s face was screwed up in confusion that was inching toward anger. “What?”

“It all comes down to the fact that you don’t trust me. Which sucks, because for a while I totally thought you did.”

Kris was silent for a moment, shocked. They weren’t even speaking the same language. What was the point of going on with this?

“Adam,” he said. “What I need is to be able to trust that when you’re not at home you’re not out feeling up random guys. Instead I know for a fact that you are. So what the fuck? How am I supposed to trust you?”

Adam threw his hands up. “You’re not _listening!_ ” he shouted, finally losing control of his voice. “It’s not about--”

“You know what. I don’t need to have this conversation again to know how it ends. I’ve seen it, alright? I’m done.” Kris stood.

“No, don’t,” Adam said, rising to his feet, reaching out. Kris put up one hand and took a step back.

“Stop,” he said. Without looking back up, he walked around the table and through the door. He paused on the sidewalk outside for just a moment, taking a deep breath of fresh air and then exhaling it in a shaky gust. Turning to the right, he started walking, up the street and away from The Park.

 ****

~*~

Adam stayed right where he was for what seemed like a long time, staring at the door. When he realized that minutes had passed and he hadn’t moved, he slowly lowered himself back into the chair.

He honestly couldn’t believe that had just happened.

He had no idea what to do next.

It had never even occurred to him that Kris might say no. How _could_ he? They loved each other, Adam knew it. They had a life together. They had _plans._ It’s not like they were just casually dating; how could Kris break up with him just like that when Adam had never even considered it an option?

 _Kris was actually going to move out._ The realization hit Adam with brutal suddenness. He was going to take all of his stuff away - the electric blanket and the toaster and the Xbox and his guitars and his toothbrush and his ugly brown slippers. And then he just wouldn’t be there anymore, ever. And when Adam got in bed at night it would be empty.

“Fuck,” he said.

This was it. The thing he never wanted. The reason he didn’t want to date Kris in the first place, what he had been most afraid of. Here it was.

He wanted to be angry - righteously, indignantly wronged - but he couldn’t muster it. All he could feel was sad. It was pale shadow of the sadness he knew was on the horizon, but a regret deep enough to make him wonder how to even begin taking another step - forget about knowing in which direction.

All this time he’d banked on _knowing_ that Kris was there for him, that he was never lying or pretending. That he was sure. If Adam had been wrong about that - if Kris had had it in him to walk away all along - had he changed his entire life for nothing? If he’d been wrong about that then he didn’t know anything at all.

He looked around the room, wishing it was full, longing for music. Having Neil close down the bar had seemed a romantic gesture at the time - he’d pictured them dancing together, alone on the floor, once they’d made up. And he was going to make them drinks, and then - he decided it was best not to think about what else he’d had planned for the night.

Now it all just seemed sad; a pathetic, lonely man in an empty room.

Was he wrong?

It seemed so obvious to Adam that Kris was out of his mind - but could he be the one lacking perspective?

Was there any chance Kris was _right_ to consider this a deal-breaker?

Adam really didn’t think so. It might be unconventional, but this was just the way he was; he had to have a little slack in order to feel happy and free. A man who loved him should want him to have that. More importantly, a man who _trusted_ him would know it was nothing to worry about.

Because Adam was _always_ all Kris’s, whether they were in the same room or not. No matter who else was around or what they were wearing or what song was playing, Adam never forgot who he belonged to. He didn’t lie and he didn’t cheat; his conscience was clear.

He didn’t think he should have to give up something that had always been a central part of his identity just because Kris was insecure. But that’s what Kris was asking for - there was no way to let himself go dancing while being mindful of everybody’s hands, trying not to look too inviting, managing every wayward impulse while surrounded with bodies. He would have to give the whole scene up, and then he’d be just Kris’s boyfriend and nothing else. He’d do his shift on the riser and then go home, like he was working a fucking nine to five.

Who knew how long before Kris wanted him to give that up, too?

He still had to have some parts of his old self; he felt like if he didn’t he’d end up feeling trapped and doing something _really_ stupid.

And the really shitty part was, Adam knew he wouldn’t always be this way. Hell, he was almost thirty - it wasn’t like he was still going to be spending all his nights in clubs in ten years, or even five. He had kind of imagined himself getting more like Kris as they got older.

Fucking hell. If he knew he was going to quit someday anyway, why wouldn’t he do it now if it meant being able to keep Kris? It was insane not to, wasn’t it?

But it still felt like too much to have to give; like much more than a compromise.

He thought about calling, then felt weak for even thinking it. He wondered if Kris was in the neighborhood or whether he’d driven away. He wondered if he’d come back if Adam said he wanted to talk some more. He wondered if he’d take him back if he offered to quit dancing. He hated himself for considering it, then considered it some more.

He stood and walked toward the bar. He was ready for a drink.

 ****

~*~

Kris was afraid to let his feet stop moving, afraid they’d betray him and start walking back the other way. In a perfect world he would’ve turned _left_ out the door toward his car, but he was used to heading home to their - Adam’s - apartment and he’d turned right out of habit. He was now halfway up the block, not sure what he was going to do other than keep moving.

His mind was a stormy, swirling blank, and he fought to keep it that way. He focused on the pounding of his feet on the pavement, the slightly cool breeze, the sound of his breath rasping in and out. He didn’t want to so much as run his mind over what had just happened, didn’t want to begin realizing what it meant; he only wanted to put some distance behind him. As if putting yards of pavement between he and Adam would actually solve anything, or make him feel at all better.

He stopped when he reached the stoop of their building, his body wanting to turn in, forgetting that it wasn’t home anymore. He’d meant to keep walking - wanted to - but once he was at the bottom of those stairs he felt like he had to go in.

The small voice in the back of his mind that had begun shouting _mistake!_ the second he walked out of the bar - the one he was trying so hard to ignore - was yelling that he didn’t really want to go in there, what he really wanted was to go _back to Adam._ He didn’t like that voice. He knew it was wrong. He knew that he was hurting and the pain was making him unable to trust himself, making him forget all the valid reasons that had led to his decision.

It’s not like he’d done it _lightly,_ after all. It’s not like he _enjoyed_ it. He just had to be strong. He just had to get through this part, keep all those good reasons in mind so he could move forward and... and hopefully be well again, someday.

It would do him good to keep charging on, he thought. If he stopped to think he’d just confuse himself and lose his purpose. He decided to go upstairs and get a few things, begin the moving out process for real. He’d been missing one pair of jeans in particular, and he needed more underwear. He could start reclaiming his life right now. It would be healthy, he told himself. He’d start taking his things away, see that he could do it, that it wasn’t the end of the world.

He headed up the stairs.

He took a deep breath before turning his key and walking into the apartment, stepping in with his eyes closed like part of him was afraid he would see something gruesome, like he was entering a crime scene instead of the place he’d called home for the last six months. When he finally opened them, he was surprised to find it exactly as it was the night he left.

Kris wasn’t sure what he’d expected, really. Maybe that Adam would’ve had some kind of tantrum and trashed the place, or maybe that there would be liquor bottles everywhere, or signs of a party or some other kind of debauchery. Maybe Kris thought his stuff would be in a pile in the corner, or in trash bags or something. He expected that Adam would’ve done _something_ in his absence; something to show that he noted it at all. But the place looked completely unchanged.

There were two glasses on the coffee table - one half full of lemonade, the other empty. Adam had made it; Kris had found it too tart while Adam had gulped his down. That had been earlier that last day, before Adam went out.

The apartment was cluttered as usual, but no messier than the day he’d left. No sign of any kind of breaking or throwing or tantrums. There was a stack of magazines on the coffee table. Two empty Xbox game boxes on the floor in front of the entertainment center. One of Kris’s sweaters thrown over the back of the armchair.

Kris suddenly remembered what this place looked like the first time he’d been here; how barren and empty it had been, like nobody lived here at all. Adam had no attachment to the place then, and hardly any furniture. No clutter, just a blank facade. Now it looked like somebody’s home.

Kris turned and faced the door again, images of another night here - his first night - flashing into his mind. Adam had told him he loved him for the first time right there, when they’d known each other less than a week. He hadn’t meant to say it, but Kris had known it was true, and that he felt the same.

Kris sighed, remembering that feeling of being propelled, of destiny and immediacy and _rightness._ It had seemed inevitable, then, that they’d be together forever.

He’d been scared, of course - just a little bit - that Adam would freak out once or twice and try to run, but he’d also been sure he’d always be able to get him back. He’d really believed that they were solid underneath, and they’d just get stronger as time went on.

He could hardly pinpoint when it started coming apart, he only knew it was sometime after he’d moved in.

Adam just went out so much, and once Kris was there all the time to see just how often - and how late he stayed out, how much he drank, and yeah, who he felt up - it started being an irritant. And then when Kris tried to talk about it Adam didn’t even _offer_ to change his behavior, instead acting like Kris was crazy for having a problem with it. Offering excuses but never solutions, never so much as a nod to Kris’s feelings.

Just “I am who I am,” and that’s it. Like Kris should take it or leave it.

His shoulders sagged. He didn’t want to leave it. But this had turned into something very different from the explosions and lightness of their early days. He turned toward the bedroom, now regretting having come here; far from feeling empowered or motivated, he just felt sad and tired.

He walked over to his bureau and pulled the top drawer open, yanking out handfuls of boxer shorts and pairs of socks, tossing them on the bed to his left. The bed was unmade, the blankets kicked all the way down; Kris was the one who did that, he was the restless sleeper. He looked down at the floor and saw his favorite jeans, bunched up beside the bed where he’d taken them off the last time he’d slept here. The t-shirt he’d worn that day on one side, his well-loved leather slippers on the other.

Just where he’d left them.

He gathered up his clothes, pulling a few more shirts out of the closet and heading back into the living room with his arms full. He set his load down on the armchair, then went to the closet to pull out a duffel bag. When he turned back to pack up his things, he noticed the couch; there was a pillow on it, along with a purple blanket. He looked back up at the doorway to the bedroom, his mind making sense of it all at once. The bedroom was untouched; Adam had been sleeping on the couch.

Rather than sleeping in their bed alone, he’d taken the couch.

He could’ve stayed at the bar, but that was _their_ place, now, too. He stayed here alone.

While Kris had been eating ice cream with his girls, thinking of reasons to leave and getting pep talks on how to get through it, Adam had been here all alone, not even venturing into their empty bedroom.

Kris remembered each time Adam had said “I love you,” and each time he’d said “you don’t believe me,” and when he suddenly saw the way those two things interlocked, what it meant, he felt sick.

He’d imagined Adam going about his life. He’d imagined him dancing, partying; he’d imagined him getting laid, honestly. Out of spite, or just because it was his nature.

How many times had Kris acknowledged Adam’s fears and told him he’d never leave? How could he not have known he’d be heartbroken? Of course he would - _Adam loved him._ And if Adam really was hurting, how on earth could he still let it happen? How could he _still_ not give up the stupid club boys?

Kris shook his head, walking over to the couch and sinking down on it, running his hand over the blanket.

  
**~*~**   


As Adam stepped out of the club and onto the sidewalk, the street was dark and quiet. It was late enough to be considered early, the bars were closed, and Adam was very, very drunk.

He locked the door behind him with some effort, then turned toward his apartment, squaring his shoulders and attempting to walk straight down the center of the sidewalk. He didn’t quite manage it, but at least focusing on his steps took his mind off of Kris.

He stumbled, putting a hand out to stop himself from crashing into a wall. He stood there for a moment, head bowed, waiting for the street to level out again before he kept going.

Fucking Kris. Adam was pretty sure now that he’d done this on purpose. That he was like some kind of demon hellspawn sent here specifically to fuck him up and ruin everything. But it’s not like Adam hadn’t told him everything he needed to know - you know, if he _really_ wanted to do damage. That he loved him and wanted to keep him forever and all that stuff. And Kris had said oh yeah, me too.

And Adam had actually believed him, which was so embarrassing now that he wanted to puke, and he might anyway because of all the vodka.

He was obviously the devil. He’d promised _never_ to do this, and then he did it for such a stupid reason Adam felt like he was going crazy. He laughed out loud at the farce of it - where the fuck had Kris met Adam?

At a goddamn club!

Dancing!

He was half-fucking-naked! Who did Kris think he was, Mother Teresa in disguise? Trying to save souls or some shit?

He’d been pretty obvious about the kind of guy he was. He’d never lied about it.

And Kris used to come with him sometimes too, back when they were first dating. Those were the best times. When he stopped doing that, when he started saying _I’m not really the club kid that you are, Adam,_ that’s when it got shitty.

When he started acting like Adam’s fucking mom, never wanting him to go out, never going with him, coming and finding him on the dance floor and acting like he’d _caught_ him at something. Fuck _that._

Adam stopped, taking a few deep breaths, waiting for a wave of nausea to pass. He hitched once, not sure if he was going to throw up or cry, figuring he should get home quickly either way; he forced his feet to get moving again.

The ride up the elevator was sickening, but Adam managed to keep his stomach under control and the ground under his feet until he was safely on his floor, stumbling toward his apartment. It took a number of tries to get the key into the lock, but finally he was stepping inside.

“Ugh,” he said once he had the door closed behind him. He remembered about the whole _depressing empty apartment_ thing. Oh well, he’d take a piss - and puke, probably - in the guest bathroom and then fall face first on the couch and not think about the depressing empty apartment thing - or any of the other depressing things - until tomorrow.

He shuffled into the living room and then stopped in his tracks, staring blankly down at the couch. It looked a little bit like it was spinning, but he definitely saw a person laying on the spinning couch, and it was definitely Kris. Adam’s face screwed up in confusion and he tilted his head.

He was probably seeing things. Or maybe he’d fallen asleep already. He hoped he’d either stayed at the bar or gotten home if that were the case; he hated to think of himself laying passed out in the street, having cruel dreams.

He walked closer, moving clumsily around the coffee table to have a seat on it, leaning forward to get a better look at the Kris-hallucination.

“Fuck you,” he said quietly. He heard his voice and it sounded real but distant; muffled. He figured that if this were a dream then it was one where he was going to get some things off his chest. “I can’t believe you did this to me.” The Kris-vision on the couch stirred, his eyelids fluttering.

Adam felt a pang in his gut, realizing that this dream was going to hurt, whether it included a catharsis or not. It was too real.

“I don’t know if you really didn’t believe how much I love you, or if you just lied about how much you love me. I don’t know which would be worse. I don’t understand it, I really don’t... I didn’t think you’d ever. I didn’t think you’d _ever._ And this? _This?_ ” He gestured around at everything and nothing in particular, like life itself was baffling.

The Kris on the couch had his eyes open now and was sitting up, staring at Adam like he was in pain. Fuck him, Adam thought.

“Adam, I--” he said.

“No,” Adam said. “You don’t talk. This is my dream. You’re an asshole.”

“You’re drunk.”

“Fuck you.”

“OK, you talk, then,” Kris said, which surprised Adam. He thought they were going to fight.

“Well,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I think you’re a dick. I gave you everything and it was never good enough. And I believed you when you said you’d stay, but you never believed _me_. You know what? You know _what?_ I haven’t had any guy but you in my dressing room in a _year._ And nobody’s touched my dick but you. I can tell you that all day, it doesn’t make a difference. Hey Kris! I never cheat on you! Never never never _never_! Do you give a fuck? Nope. Nope, Adam is a stupid lying slut, always and forever. So you probably think I was fucking around this week, huh? Wrong again. You don’t know anything about me. You don’t _listen._ You don’t _care._ You’re a waste of time, that’s all. A waste of my time.”

Kris bowed his head, looking even more hurt than before. That made Adam feel good, so he kept going.

“But you know what’s even worse?” His face spread into a wide, sarcastic smile. “I still love you! Like a dumbass! It’s so stupid, because I’m never going to be good enough for you, am I? Unless I cut off my balls and let you keep them in your wallet, right? So I don’t know what the point of trying is, except that I still want to. Maybe I really am just that stupid, I don’t know, but I thought we were _it._ I thought this was one of those movie forever type things, you know? Like... like making out next to a fountain while sappy music plays, and then cut to a fucking wedding scene, or like... running on a beach or some shit. Forever. Nope, just an idiot dating a douchebag. I bet everybody expected _me_ to be the douchebag. Oh, irony.”

“Can I--” Kris said, and Adam held up a hand, his face going a cartoon version of deadly serious.

“NO,” he said firmly. “You _can’t._ ” He stood up, visibly wobbling. Kris held up a hand to help steady him and Adam waved him away. “I’m fine,” he said. “Oh, here’s another one. You’ll love this. I was going to let you fuck me tonight. Last night. What the fuck time is it? Doesn’t matter, I guess.” He shook his head. “Anyway. Yeah, for like an anniversary present or something. I thought - well, if Kris is so worried about sharing me, I’ll really show him that he doesn’t at all. Because that would be something that was like, just yours, you know? I would never - I’d never ever do that with anybody else, but I. I love you and I knew you wanted it and I thought it would make you happy? So I was really looking forward to it, too. I realized that it was going to be really good and I couldn’t wait to tell you. But that was going to be _after_ we made up, of course. I had my... our room all fancy for it and everything.” He was swaying on his feet now, his eyes half-closed, his voice getting quieter. “Candles and new um. New sheets and pillows. I really. I just wanted to.”

Kris stood, Adam not objecting this time when he put his hand on his elbow.

“Shh,” Kris said quietly. “Come on.” He guided Adam toward the bedroom, holding him steady on his shuffling feet.

The last thing Adam was aware of was the feeling of something warm on his cheek - lips? fingers? - and then blackness.

When he woke up the next morning he was surprised to find himself in bed; his head was pounding and his mouth dry. He had a panicky feeling in his chest from the moment he opened his eyes, remembering the night before. The memories started painfully clear before trailing into fuzziness toward the end, and he was left with an unsettling feeling that he’d done something he shouldn’t have.

He rolled out of bed, groaning, and fumbled for his phone. Had he called Kris? No outgoing calls. No texts.

Adam rubbed his eyes and walked out of the bedroom, squinting against the light pouring through the living room windows. As he walked toward the kitchen - and more importantly the coffee pot - he paused, noticing the pile of clothes on the armchair. He stepped toward it slowly, reaching out to touch the familiar items.

Kris’s jeans. His shirts. Had Adam done this? Had he gone into some kind of purging frenzy or something? He shook his head, closing his eyes, trying to remember.

He couldn’t remember anything but the vague feeling that somebody had helped him to bed; had said _shhh_ into his ear. But that had to have been a dream.

  
**~*~**   


When Kris arrived at the bar he debated whether he should sit at his usual table or hide. He wasn’t sure how Adam would react when he saw him - wasn’t sure whether Adam would even be here tonight, really, scheduled or not. He felt at a loss for how to even begin.

Coming had been the right thing, though, he was sure. He would just have to figure it out.

He arrived early, when the crowd was thin and the dancers weren’t out yet. He walked over to the bar, his heart pounding already, waving to Neil when he looked up. By way of greeting Neil went pale and then flushed red, his mouth hanging open.

“Hey,” Neil said as Kris slid onto a stool. “I’m not sure it’s a great idea for you to be here.” He looked back and forth quickly, like he was scanning the room.

“Is he here?”

“Yeah,” Neil said, frowning. “He’s here. I don’t think he will be for long if he sees you, though.”

Kris frowned in return. “Is he really bad?”

“Man,” Neil said, shaking his head. “I’m not going to lie to you. I could--I could seriously hurt you for this. I thought you were just _right_ for him. I encouraged him to trust you. _I_ trusted you. And now he’s--I can’t even. You know what? I can’t talk to you. You’re going to have get the fuck out.”

“No,” Kris said, standing, holding his hand up in protest. “Listen to me. I’m sorry. I fucked up, I know. Help me fix it. Tell me what to do.”

Neil’s face hardened further; he took a step back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why should I?”

“Do you think that’s what he wants?”

“I honestly don’t know,” he said. “He said he was going to dance tonight, so I guess he’s carrying on or whatever. But he’s fucked up and miserable. He looks like hell and feels worse. I’m not sure the person who made him feel that way is going to be welcome. He has kind of a temper.”

“I know,” Kris said. “I have been an asshole and I know it. But if I can fix it and if that would make him happy--just, please? Help?”

Neil huffed. “Fine,” he said. “But if he takes you back and you _ever_ do this again, so help me god, I’ll--”

Kris held his hands up, fighting not to smile. “I won’t, I swear.”

“Don’t let him see you before he’s done dancing,” Neil said sternly. “I don’t know what he’s going to do when he does, but I sure as hell don’t want to find out before his shift. Stay in the back and then get in his dressing room before he’s done. Do you want me to warn him before he goes in?”

“No,” Kris answered quickly. He was afraid Adam would just leave, that he wouldn’t want to talk to him at all.

“OK. He’s going to be coming out soon so get away from me.”

Kris nodded. “Thank you,” he said, and turned away. He found a table in a back corner, in the shadow of a column, and waited for Adam to come out. When he finally did, Kris’s heart broke further: he _did_ look terrible. No glitter tonight, only some eyeliner and mascara, a little bit of lip gloss. Black shorts and boots, no accessories, hair worn down over his eyes, half-obscuring his expression.

Kris felt like he was wrong for watching him, like he was intruding on a moment he had no right to see. Adam danced, keeping the beat as perfectly as he always did. Maybe somebody who didn’t know him wouldn’t have even realized anything was wrong. But Kris saw it - the dull, robotic quality of his movement, the lack of fluidity and ease, the complete absence of connection. It was hard to watch.

It felt like a punishment, and Kris knew he had to take it.

  
**~*~**   


Adam was amazed when he realized his time was up, that he had made it all the way through his shift. He hopped onto the floor with a sigh of relief, heading directly for Neil.

“Alright, I’m done,” he said. “I’ll see you later.” He grabbed his coat from a hook by the bar and began to turn away.

“Wait,” Neil said. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?”

“No,” Adam said. “I’m just going to haul ass home. I can’t deal with that room anymore. I need to get away from here.” He shrugged, taking a step backward, desperate to leave.

“Wait,” Neil said again. “You should go back there, man.”

Adam shook his head. “I can’t explain it to you, OK, but I just--”

“Kris is in there.”

Adam blinked.

“He wants to talk to you. I think you should listen to him.”

Adam shook his head again, but said nothing.

“Just hear him out.”

“He walked away from me when I asked him to hear me out,” Adam said flatly.

“He knows he was a dick. He wants to apologize.”

“Shut up,” Adam said, his heart suddenly stuttering in his chest.

Neil nodded, gesturing toward the door that led to Kris. “Just... hear him out, OK?”

Adam looked down, then rubbed his eyes. “OK,” he said, nodding slightly. “OK.” He took a deep breath, then turned to walk toward the door. He took his time weaving through the bodies on the dance floor, in no hurry to find out what kind of scene was waiting for him.

He was holding his breath when he opened the door, letting it out in a long gust when he saw Kris sitting on the bed, hands clasped between his knees. He looked up at Adam with an expression that was half terror and half pleading and Adam felt abruptly like weeping or throwing a glass against a wall.

He did neither. Instead he took another step into the room and closed the door behind him. After the clicking of the latch, he heard Kris exhale.

“Thank god,” he said. “I was afraid you were going to run.”

“No, that’s you,” Adam said. He crossed his arms, finding it to be the best way to keep them from shaking or - worse - reaching out to touch.

Kris stood. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I think I lost my mind or something, I don’t know. You’re right that I wasn’t listening to you. And you were right that I didn’t--that I didn’t believe you.” He looked down for a moment, then seemed to force himself to meet Adam’s eyes again. “I’m sorry. I believe you now. I don’t know what was wrong with me, I really--”

“You broke my heart,” Adam said.

“Yeah,” Kris said, looking down again. “You broke mine, too, though.”

“How’s that?”

“I hate it--I hate seeing you with other people. I know you don’t want me to, but I do. That’s all.”

“You knew that about me all along,” Adam said. “That’s what I don’t get. You knew this about me.”

Kris nodded. “I know. I guess seeing it is just different... I don’t know. Sometimes I can’t get the images out of my head, you know? It makes me nuts. But the thing is, I don’t know that there’s an answer to this, really. I think we’ll just have to try harder and make it work, find a way to balance it, because it’s not worth losing everything else. That’s what I figured out.”

“It took you a long fucking time.”

“I know,” Kris said. “Will you try, though? At least try a little bit to... like, have restraint, or something?”

Adam laughed, and it sounded strange to his own ears. “Sure,” he said. “I will try harder. If you’ll try harder, too. And come dancing with me. Often.”

“OK,” Kris said, and Adam noticed a slight shake in his voice.

“Because if you hate the thought of me touching other people? Just always be in arm’s reach. I won’t touch anybody else.”

Kris took a long breath, nodding slowly.

“But,” Adam said. “The problem is, you fucking walked out on me.”

“I know,” Kris said.

“You were going to _move out._ ”

“I don’t think I really--”

“Close enough,” Adam spat. “I certainly believed you. And you did it so easily, over nothing at all.”

“No,” Kris said. “It wasn’t easy. I just--I lost sight of us, I think. I got lost in details and forgot about the important stuff. It’s no excuse, I know. I felt hurt and I ran, as if you’re anything I can run from. I can’t. That’s the thing--the second I really let myself imagine being without you for real, for good, and you being hurt and the whole... _reality_ of it, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t do it.”

Adam kept staring at him, arms still folded, silent. Kris took a step forward.

“When I used to be scared that you would leave? I always knew I’d be able to get you back, so I couldn’t be _too_ scared. Because I knew we would always end up together in the end. I knew it, but I forgot it. I’ll never forget it again, I promise.” He took another tentative step toward Adam. “And it works both ways, see? I could never really leave either. Not for real. Not in the end.”

“You got too close,” Adam said. “I trusted you never to do this. You promised before.”

“I fucked up,” Kris said, turning up his palms. “I admit it. I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, I can’t even tell you--not because I disagreed with you. Because I walked away. And I’m so scared that you’ll walk away right now, I swear to god I’m cured of the urge forever. OK? I swear.”

Adam fought to contain a smile, but it broke out at one corner anyway. “Yeah,” he said. “OK.”

Kris’s mouth dropped open, and he stood there silent for a beat. “OK?” he finally said.

“Yeah.” Adam shrugged.

“Really? That’s it?”

“I guess so,” Adam said, and let his arms fall at his sides. Kris took the last step that brought them together and slowly, carefully reached out to touch. Adam held his breath for a moment then let it out as he moved forward, allowing Kris to wrap his arms around his waist, amazed at the immediate rush of lightheadedness that came with contact after so long. He leaned forward, burying his face in Kris’s hair and breathing in, letting his hands wind around to his back.

“Fuck, I missed you,” Kris said.

Adam sighed, nodding against Kris’s head in response. He didn’t really trust himself to speak, too full of shaky relief to figure out what to say.

“I like the new sheets,” Kris continued. Adam stiffened.

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “Thanks.”

“I don’t see any candles, though.”

Adam pulled away, looking down at Kris. “What?” he said.

“You said you had put out candles.”

“When did I say that?”

“Last night,” Kris said.

Adam looked up, furrowing his brow, trying to remember. “When did we talk about that? I didn’t think I’d mentioned--”

“Oh, it was later.” Kris paused. “You don’t remember?”

“This was after--”

“Later, when you came home.”

Adam took a step back, his face shocked. “You were there? Last night?”

“Yeah,” Kris said. “I, um. Stopped by to grab some stuff, or so I thought. The second I walked in the door I was done, though. I saw the couch--I realized you’d been sleeping there and I just. I was so ashamed of myself. I thought about going back to the bar but then I thought I’d rather talk to you at home. I fell asleep.”

“Oh,” Adam said. “You left the clothes on the chair.”

Kris nodded.

“What did I say?”

“You were angry,” Kris said. “But I deserved it. You told me to shut up a bunch of times. And called me an asshole. But, you know, true.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Kris shook his head. “I needed to hear it. And you were right, so.”

Adam stepped forward again, wrapping Kris up in his arms. “The candles are over there in the corner,” he said, gesturing with his head. “I threw them there earlier.”

“Sorry.”

“A lot of that going around tonight.” He smiled, but it faded quickly. “So I told you about the--candles?”

“You did,” Kris said. “You told me what you wanted to do. And you said you had been really looking forward to it. And that you wanted to give me something that was all mine, that I’d never have to share.”

Adam swallowed. “I did, huh.”

“Yeah.” Kris tilted his head up, running his lips along Adam’s neck. Adam felt the contact like a shock, sparking outward all the way to his fingers and toes.

“And, uh. What did you think of that?”

“I thought it sounded like a very thoughtful gift,” Kris murmured. “And it made me feel like even more of an idiot for missing out on it.”

Adam’s moved his hands up to either side of Kris’s neck as he leaned down to kiss him, his hands and mouth taking in his familiar warmth, wanting to weep for how recently he thought he’d never have this again. Just like that he felt swept up, on fire; like all that had happened in between had just been burned away and all that mattered was that they were here now, in their room together.

  
**~*~**   


Kris was the stupidest man alive and he knew it. He felt it deep in his bones, how dangerously close he’d come to fucking up every good thing in his life, to throwing away his best and only chance at the kind of happiness musical characters sing about. He was an idiot, and also the luckiest person on the planet, because he got another chance.

He kissed Adam fiercely, overwhelmed with how much he’d missed him and relief to have gotten back on track. His body moved in frantic excitement, pushing, needing to get closer, needing to do _more._

Adam stepped forward, moving them toward the bed, and Kris began opening the buttons of his shirt as he sat back on the mattress. He shrugged it off and threw it aside before laying back, feeling dizzy as he watched Adam, shirtless and lovely as ever in his shorts, climbing on top of him. Adam reached between them to undo Kris’s button and fly, then helped him shimmy out of his pants after he’d kicked off his shoes. That task accomplished he lowered himself, laying his full weight on Kris and kissing him hard, unrelenting, taking his breath away.

Kris broke away with a gasp, taking several hitched breaths as Adam dove into his neck.

“Please,” Kris said, pushing against Adam’s shoulders. Adam allowed himself to be directed, rolling over when Kris moved him. Kris slunk down the bed - kissing his way down Adam’s torso - then set about unbuckling Adam’s boots and ridding him of his shorts.

He wrapped one hand around Adam’s cock gently, sliding it up and down with a kind of reverent joy; he almost felt like laughing, hysterical at the thought that he’d been planning on giving this up. He had loved this man from the first moment he’d seen him, and the way he was now - breathing hard and writhing under Kris’s touch - was the most beautiful thing that he could imagine. They both had their flaws, but together they were a miracle. He’d be a fool to forget it again.

He leaned forward, kissing the tip before talking the head into his mouth; he heard Adam gasp quietly and then hum, his version of purring.

“Ah,” Adam said. “I never want to go that long between blowjobs again. Ever.”

Kris hummed in return, the slow movement of his head up and down standing in for a nod. He took his time, enjoying the feeling of Adam’s skin and his movement, the sound of his breathing and the noises he couldn’t contain.

“I can’t believe you went that long,” Kris said.

Adam groaned. “There you go again,” Adam said. “Underestimating me.”

“No,” Kris said, running his lips along Adam’s shaft, letting his tongue peek out to lick a stripe. “I mean you shouldn’t have had to. Sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“OK,” Adam said, sighing. “Good. Enough talking. Sex now.”

Kris nodded, setting to work in earnest; letting his mouth and throat get loose, working with both hands. He’d _missed_ this. He’d gotten used to Adam quickly - and going down on him had been one of Kris’s favorite things from the first time he’d tried it - but he’d had so much experience he could play him like an instrument now. He got a smug satisfaction out of anticipating Adam’s every reaction, hitting the right spots to drive him crazy, bringing noises out of him, making him growl. He didn’t want him to get off now, he just wanted to spend a moment here, making Adam sing, remembering how much he loved it.

Adam began bucking, thrusting into Kris as he gripped the sheets; Kris moved a hand up, trailing over Adam’s chest and pushing down, trying to still him. He ran his tongue along Adam’s cock one last time as he pulled off of him, coming up to kiss him with swollen lips.

Adam’s eyes were half closed, his chest still rising and falling quickly.

“Do you still want it?” Kris said quietly, his hand trailing back and forth across Adam’s chest, unable to stop touching.

“Yes.” Adam nodded, looking up to meet Kris’s eyes.

“Tell me.”

“I want you to fuck me.”

Kris leaned down and kissed him. “Good,” he said. “‘Cause I really want to.”

“You know I’m all yours,” Adam said, kissing him again. Kris nodded against his skin.

“Yes.” Kris shimmied down the bed again, letting his hand trail behind, running over Adam’s chest and down to his hip. With the other hand he grabbed a pillow, shifting Adam to get it beneath his ass.

He’d already decided - last night, in fact, when Adam had said that he wanted to do this - that he wanted to make this every bit as good for Adam as he had made it for Kris his first time. And that meant doing exactly what Adam had done. He couldn’t wait, feeling giddy with excitement over getting to repay such a favor and overwhelmed at the idea of what he’d be getting in return.

“OK,” he said. “You just need to relax for me, OK?”

Adam laughed. “Shut up,” he said. “You don’t have to soothe me.”

“Just trying to make it good for you, baby,” Kris said, smiling. “Lube?”

“In the drawer.”

Kris reached over to the side table, found the bottle and reclaimed his spot between Adam’s legs, directing him to bend and spread his knees.

Kris had to take a moment after that, just to admire the view.

When he finally reached out to touch, it was gently, tentatively at first, as if he’d suddenly understood what was about to happen. He ran one hand slowly along the inside of one thigh, then back up the other, reversing direction to run the course again more firmly. He leaned forward to press kisses in those same spots, letting his tongue explore the soft pale skin inside Adam’s thighs.

His mouth still busy, he snapped open the bottle and drizzled one hand, bringing it to Adam’s hole; circling it at first, then pressing in gently, adding pressure with each lap. He remembered how this felt the first time, hoping he was replicating that feeling completely; if Adam’s breathing was any indication, he was doing well. He continued working from his memory, feeling like he was living it over again from Adam’s perspective as well as his own. He watched Adam’s face wincing as he pushed the first finger slowly inside; felt him clench and then relax, his knees falling apart further.

“Fuck,” Kris said. “I hope you didn’t mean this as a one-time deal or like... a symbolic gesture or something. Because I’m going to want to do this again.”

“Shh,” Adam said.

“Sorry,” Kris said, leaning in to drop kisses on Adam’s belly, around the base of his cock as his finger worked slowly in and out. “You’re just so fucking beautiful.”

“You are,” Adam said, rolling his hips insistently. “Now shut up and get on with it.”

“OK.” Kris twisted his hand, pulling his finger out and returning with one more, resuming his slow, drawn out rhythm. He continued alternately kissing Adam and watching his face as he opened him up, felt him loosen, heard his breathing get more ragged and fought to keep his hips steady when they started wanting to buck. Kris had three fingers inside him, thrusting hard and loving the way Adam’s face went slack and flushed, the way he was throwing his head back, when Adam suddenly whined loudly.

“Fuck,” he said. “Now, do it now. Fuck me now, please. Please.”

Kris knew that feeling, understood the note of insanity in Adam’s voice, and he moved to action quickly. Tonight was about making Adam feel good, about giving him exactly what he needed, not teasing; Kris wouldn’t leave him in this desperate place for a second longer than necessary.

He moved up Adam’s body, leaning forward to kiss him deeply as he lubed himself up with one hand. He pulled away from the kiss as he was positioning himself at Adam’s entrance and said, “ready?”

Adam pushed up with his hips and then pulled Kris down to kiss him again, and it was answer enough. Kris moved back against Adam, feeling himself slip inside, all the air rushing from his lungs as he pushed further.

“Oh god, oh god,” he said.

Adam panted in Kris’s ear.

Kris tried to hold still when they were flush, the way Adam did for him; knew he should let him get used to the feeling, be careful not to hurt him... but then Adam shifted slightly and moaned as he did, and Kris felt it everywhere in his body. He _had_ to move. He pulled out halfway and then back in twice, jerkily.

“Can I, it is OK--”

“Go, go,” Adam said. “Fuck, yes, go.”

He did, starting as slow as he could manage and picking up speed, taking Adam’s growling and panting for encouragement. Kris wanted to say something, wanted to tell Adam that he loved him and that he understood how much this meant, that he knew how lucky he was. But he could do nothing but cry out, feeling like his heart was breaking from the onslaught of sensation.

Adam’s moaning took on a whining, desperate tone, saying Kris’s name again and again but unable to articulate what he needed; Kris knew that feeling too. He wrapped his hand around Adam’s cock, moving up and down in time with his pistoning hips.

“Come,” Kris said. “Come on, please. I want to feel you.”

“Fuck,” Adam said, pushing harder against Kris, who picked up speed in both his hand and his hips. A moment later Adam was arching up, nearly lifting Kris off the bed as he bowed. Kris could feel Adam tighten around him, all his muscles tensing; he saw Adam’s face, broken as he cried out. He felt himself knitting together tightly and then unraveling; crashing back down with Adam, clutching at him and thrusting as he came.

They lay there a long time after, wrapped up together in contented silence, neither wanting to be the first to speak and both happy to focus on the sound of their breathing in the meantime. On occasion one or the other would shift or hum, they’d turn to each other and kiss, then settle back into their easy quiet. Eventually Kris realized that the thumping bass that had been their underlying soundtrack had stopped some time ago. The bar was closed and they were here alone again; he wasn’t quite sure why that made him feel like laughing.

Blame the afterglow.

 ****

~*~

“My shit won’t fit you, though,” Adam called out from his closet, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the options. Kris stepped in behind him, wrapping his arms around Adam’s waist.

“Well, you said none of my shit is good enough, so,” he shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you. Do we have time to shop?”

“Not really.”

“Good,” Kris said. “Because I don’t want to.” He stepped around Adam and got in front of him, slowly but insistently stepping backward once he was snuggled into Adam’s arms; forcing them both out the door and into the bedroom.

“Hey,” Adam said, pouting just slightly.

“I’ll just wear my regular thing,” Kris said, turning around so they were chest-to-chest. “You said it was charming, right? Cute Western thing?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Adam shrugged, leaning forward into Kris’s hair. He really did love the smell, call him crazy. He didn’t think it was just the shampoo.

What were they talking about again?

“And is it really that important what I wear?”

“I guess not,” Adam said. “I just pictured us making like, a grand re-entrance. Looking amazing.”

“I don’t think it’s going to be that grand. Maybe we can just hang out, instead of making it a big thing? And you can just, like, go dancing? With me, your boyfriend, who wears plaid?”

Adam laughed, leaning forward for a kiss. It seemed a fair compromise.

“Yes,” he said. “Oh! Maybe I can wear plaid too, and we’ll _match!_ ”

“Perfect,” Kris said. “It’s genius.” He stepped away, turning toward his closet. “Let’s see if I have anything that fits you.”

  
**~*The End*~**   


  



End file.
